I don’t think I’d trade being here with anything else. It’s almost a shock to me, because those aren’t words I’m used to saying, or thinking. Usually I’m always itching for the next place, but I could get used to this; maybe even get an apartment- of course we’d have to have cash for that. But, like, windiest fantasy… it’d be nice to have sex in an actual bed, and wash myself in a shower, have a fridge. I have some money tucked in my bra, from odd jobs or busking. The rest of the camp doesn’t know about it, not even her. I don’t know why I didn’t tell them. I thought I wanted to, but something held me back. I’ve rationalized it for myself that I just didn’t want to risk Finn spending it all on beer, but I’m not sure.

My mind snaps back to the moment when she begins to toy with my fingers. One hand rubs up and down the outside of my thigh, the other holds my hand as well as a burning cigarette. She smokes, but refuses to touch weed. Only tobacco for her, which I think is wild. We’ll have to blow into a town soon, we’re running a bit low on supplies, but we have what we need for right now. She stubs the cigarette out on her arm, flicking it out the open entrance of my tent. She gets on top of me, and my hands come to rest on her thighs.

Some would be shy about the open tent, but we don’t care. We’re not nudest or anything, but human beings have been having sex and bring in their underwear for centuries. It’s not anything new, when you really think about it. We start kissing, slow and soft. She’s direct enough to just pull my hand between her thighs and push her own between mine when she wants it, so I assume she’s just feeling touchy. I sit up with her on my lap, and her arms wrap around my neck. She rubs the buzzed hair at the base of my neck as my hands slide lower down her back.

My hands are warm, and they run over her cool skin. She pulls away from me gently for breath, and my arms tighten around her, just a little. She kisses the crooked bridge of my nose, and reaches for her camera. It’s a Polaroid camera, and she takes that thing everywhere she holds it out and takes a photo of us. The flash goes off, and she pulls it out of the camera. The photo is nothing right now, but she shakes it and we share another small kiss. God, there’s just something about her. I can’t even pinpoint what it is, but I know that I like it. Love it, maybe. We haven’t said that yet, but I don’t mind we’ve got a good thing going. She pulls away and gently hits my shoulder when I chase her lips, and I look at the now-developed Polaroid.